The First Noel
by FantasiaWandering
Summary: A change in the world leaves Frisk restless in the early hours of Christmas morning. Fortunately, it's not too early for a certain pair of skeletons to help Frisk make sense of the present, and remember another Christmas long past that began with a similar early-morning puzzle to solve. Contains very slight spoilers for the end of Deltarune.


_The Tenth Year_

_December 25_

_3:25 am_

* * *

The snow has stopped falling at last, leaving a wide, pristine sea of white before you as you race down the hill. As the clouds part, the moonlight joins with the glow of the street lamps to transform the snow-covered streets into a glittering expanse, and it would be beautiful were it not for the pounding of your heart and the blurring sting of tears in your eyes.

Your bare feet skid as you plough through the drifts, sending sprays of sparkling flakes into the air, and a snowman calls out in concern as you pass by the park, but you can't stop. Though the houses around you are mostly dark, their occupants having long since gone to bed, there is one at the end of the street whose Christmas lights shine so brightly that their neighbours' seem dim by comparison, and whose windows are ablaze even in these wee hours of the morning.

A sound breaks free of you, caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob. You stumble up the steps and through the door that swings wide as the camera in the doorbell recognizes you, and you fall into the light.

For a moment, you can see nothing as your eyes adjust to the sudden transition from darkness. Then, you can make out the tree bowing under the weight of the ornaments dangling from its branches, and the drifts of colourful paper and ribbon surrounding the piles of presents beneath it, and one very tall and distraught skeleton attempting to interpose himself between you and the gifts.

"HUMAN, THIS IS NO TIME FOR SUCH CHICANERY! WHAT IF YOU SAW YOUR GIFTS AND RUINED THE SURPRISE?"

"Papyrus," you gasp, your voice broken by tears, and you can see the change in his expression as he registers the state of you. "I need you to fight me!"

Confusion and bewilderment join the distress on his face. "NOW? THIS IS A HIGHLY UNUSUAL TIME FOR A WORKOUT, AND WHILE THAT IS CERTAINLY, UM, A *CREATIVE* CHOICE FOR TRAINING GEAR—"

"Papyrus, _please._" The tears are streaming down your face as panic tightens your chest and steals the breath from your lungs.

"BUT—"

"Fight me!" You take a stumbling step toward him. "_Please!_"

The sheer desperation in your voice reaches him where logic and common sense can't, and he flings an arm toward you. A familiar, tearing sensation rips through your chest, and the light of your soul bathes the room, the tinsel on the tree sparkling red with the intensity of it.

On the periphery of your vision, you're aware of the bones hurtling toward you, but you can't tear your eyes from your soul. Choking on a sob, you drop to your knees, and the bones instantly freeze in a ring around you, so close to you that the force of their stopping stirs your hair.

"It's still there," you whisper through your tears. "It's still there…"

"WELL OF COURSE IT IS," Papyrus says. Rattling fills the air as bones fall like a macabre rain around you, and the light fades as your soul returns where it belongs.

"**any reason why you're thinking it wouldn't be, kid?**" comes a second voice from above you.

Slowly, you look up to see Sans standing halfway up the stairs, still in his favourite "acute nerd" pyjamas. As your eyes meet, he very slowly lowers his right hand, watching you with wary expectation. And as a combination of relief, and fear, and shame, and gratitude storms its way through you, something inside of you shatters. Burying your face in your hands, you double over, and all you can do in the face of that overwhelming surge of emotion is cry.

Papyrus' arms are around you immediately, lifting you and cradling you against the softness of last year's Christmas sweater — a detail that tells you he's already gotten his hour or so of sleep for the night, which makes you feel just a little less guilty about your unannounced intrusion.

"HUMAN, YOUR CURRENT TEMPERATURE IS NOT GENERALLY CONSIDERED USEFUL FOR THOSE WHO INSIST ON WEARING SKIN," Papyrus says as he carries you over to the couch. "SANS! CODE BROWN!"

"**man, bro, we gotta use another code,**" Sans groans as he descends the stairs and walks past you. "**brown's for something really different.**"

"IF YOU HAD COMPLETED YOUR HUMAN STUDIES AS I HAVE, YOU WOULD KNOW THAT THE THING YOU'RE REFERRING TO CAN COME IN A MULTITUDE OF COLOURS, BUT THE THING TO WHICH I REFER IS ALWAYS BROWN." As your tears mix with a strangled laugh against his sweater, he bounces you thoughtfully. "AS LONG AS YOU DO IT CORRECTLY. DO IT CORRECTLY, SANS."

"**you're the boss, bro,**" Sans says, and disappears into the kitchen.

"THERE NOW," Papyrus says as he sets you on the couch and wraps a blanket around you. "HOW CLEVER OF YOU TO SAVE TIME BY FOREGOING YOUR FOOTWEAR AND THEN SEEKING OUT THE GREAT PAPYRUS TO REPAIR THE DAMAGE."

From anyone else, the words would have a wounding edge. But from Papyrus, there is only gentle sincerity as he puts his arms around you. He doesn't even give you a chance to start worrying about guilt again. You gasp as a wave of magic rolls through you, bright and green and shining with kindness and compassion, and now you're certain he's been taking lessons from your mother. He healed you the first time you fought, just over ten years ago, for it would never have crossed his mind to fight an opponent that wasn't at full strength, but that healing was just a drop in the ocean of magic that pours into you now. The pain in your bleeding, frostbitten feet fades and vanishes, and leaves only the tingling sensitivity of a new healing behind.

You turn into him, burying your face against his shoulder. "Thank you."

He pats your head. "THERE. I WILL SORT OUT YOUR FEET, AND SANS WILL SORT OUT YOUR HEAD, AND WE SHALL BE ABLE TO PUT THIS PESKY DREAM BEHIND YOU."

You start, looking up at him. "How did you know?"

He lets out a snort of laughter. "FRISK. I HAVE LIVED WITH YOU AND SANS FOR TEN YEARS. DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS WHEN YOU BURST IN AT AN HOUR AT WHICH YOU ARE USUALLY SLEEPING AND YELL THINGS THAT MAKE NO SENSE?"

With a quiet groan, you pull the blanket over your head, but Papyrus gently tugs it down and uses it to dry your face. "NO NEED FOR THAT, HUMAN. AFTER ALL, IS THAT NOT WHY YOU CAME TO THE GREAT PAPYRUS?"

"'**course it was. kid's almost as smart as you.**" Sans leans against the arm of the couch and passes you a steaming mug. "**here you go, kiddo. drink up.**"

You take the mug from him, and raise a brow. It smells pleasantly of chocolate, but the contents are bright green.

"SANS!" Papyrus gestures at the mug in exasperation. "YOU HAD ONE JOB!"

"**told you we need a different code.**" He tugs on Papyrus' sweater. "**tag.**"

Papyrus sighs and gets up so that Sans can take his place on the couch. Frowning at the bones piled around his feet, Papyrus shakes his head. "I SUPPOSE I OUGHT TO CLEAN UP THIS MESS." He wags a finger at Sans. "DO I NEED TO POINT OUT THAT POISONING THE HUMAN WOULD BE COUNTERPRODUCTIVE?"

"**nah, I got it, bro.**" Sans winks, giving Papyrus a thumbs up. "**oh, and hey, it was nice of you to get the dogs in on this.**"

"THE WHAT?"

Papyrus turns just as the door gives its friendly bleep of recognition and swings wide for the tiny white dog sitting on the doorstep. The dog gives a squeaky yap, and trots into the living room.

"NO!" Papyrus waves his arms. "NO, SHOO, THIS IS NOT—"

Before he can get another word in, Endogeny bounds through the door and bowls him over. Shaking with glee and shedding a faint spray of slime that seems to land everywhere but on you and Sans, Endogeny gives a multi-voiced bark. With an answering yap, Greater Dog, out of its armour, follows through the door and races around the room several times before grabbing a bone from the floor and leaping back through the open doorway. Absorbing several more of the scattered bones until it looks like a strange sort of porcupine, Endogeny follows suit.

"NO, WAIT!" Papyrus calls after them, following as fast as he can. "I NEED THOSE!"

The small dog gives a happy bark in your direction, picks up another stray bone, and trots after the others. With a sound like a satisfied sigh, the door swings closed behind it.

You look at Sans, who just shrugs. "**actually, i had nothing to do with that. just wish i'd had a chance to get my trombone. now drink up, kid. you're still a lot bluer than you oughtta be.**" You cast another dubious glance at the bilious contents of the mug, but he waves a hand. "**just food colouring. i couldn't resist.**"

That wins a smile out of you, and though you have to close your eyes against the disconcerting colour, it's warm, and sweet, and wonderful, and the magic cooked into it sweeps through you and banishes the last of the cold.

You open your eyes when Sans takes the mug from you to set it on the table. A moment later, a black shape slinks out from under the Christmas tree and jumps up to curl on your lap. You take a moment to answer Cooper's insistent headbutts to your hand with scratches behind her velvet ears, and finally look back up at Sans. He's waiting, and though normally he won't push you for details, your bad dreams also don't usually come with you crashing through the door and demanding to fight his little brother.

"**okay, pal. talk to me.**"

You take a shaking breath, fighting the returning tightness in your chest. "It's already fading, but it was…" You trace Cooper's ear with a trembling finger, trying to find the words. Her answering purr thrums through you, lending you strength. "I was somewhere else. I was me, but not me, and I lived with Mom still, but everything was… wrong. And then something happened, and I… I pulled everything that was _me_ out of me, and then I was in a cage, and I couldn't get out, and the face on the other side of the bars that wasn't me was laughing, and…"

The tears start again as you struggle to breathe. You can still feel the very real pain as you threw your incorporeal self against the rusted bars, and though you had no body to bleed, you could feel the essence of yourself draining away nonetheless.

"And then I woke up, and I could tell something was different but I didn't know what, and I didn't know if I was still _me_, and I had to know, and I had to… to…" You look at him, horror curling dark tendrils around your heart as you realize just how scared he must have been to come down the stairs to see you facing down Papyrus. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just had to know if it was still there, and I couldn't… I couldn't…."

With every word, your chest tightens until it's a battle for air. But as you falter, he puts an arm around you and pulls you closer. "**and you couldn't put your parents through what they'd have to do if it wasn't.**" You nod with a hiccuping sob, and he rubs your back until some of the suffocating pressure eases and you start to breathe again. "**i get it. don't worry, buddy. you did the right thing.**" With a shuddering sigh, your head comes to rest against his shoulder, and his hand drifts up to pat your hair. "**you're not the only one who felt whatever that was. just looks like you got the worst of it.**"

"I was just so scared…" you whisper, and lift your head from his shoulder. "Do you know what's going on?"

"**not really. no more than you.**" He scratches the bridge of his nose. "**but if i were to resort to an overused metaphor, i'd say that this big ol' tree of possibilities you and i keep wandering around on somehow managed to grow itself a completely new branch.**" He shrugs. "**seems to me a change that big couldn't help but shake the tree.**"

"Did I make this happen?" Your fingers dig into Cooper's fur, and her purring redoubles as a result. "Was this something I did?"

He shakes his head. "**nah. i may not be able to make out much, but whatever that branch is, it's splitting off way before you came on the scene. even with the wandering you do, i can't see how you could have anything to do with this.**"

The fear is fading, and with it comes more and more anxiety and guilt. After ten years, he can read you like a book, and a bony finger taps your forehead where the worry line is forming between your brows. "**stop that. you didn't do anything wrong.**"

"I scared you," you point out. "And I would have put it on you to… to…"

"**take care of things if you'd come out wrong?**" You nod, and he sighs, resting his head against yours. "**aw, kiddo. I hate that this is a thing you have to worry about. but I'd hate it more if you couldn't trust me with it. don't worry. i got your back, buddy.**"

"Sans," you ask, in a tiny voice. "Would you…"

"**you want me to check one more time?**"

You nod, and he sits up straighter, raising his hand to hover over your chest. A prickle raises the hair on your arms, and the light of your soul pours out from beneath his hand, bathing his skeletal face in a deep red glow. Shifting his hand, he stares intently into the light, the depths of his eyes completely dark.

"What do you see?" You whisper.

"**well, would you look at that,**" he says. The friendly glint returns to his eyes, and he winks at you. "**it's just you, frisk.**"

The sigh of relief that rises within you doesn't have a chance to escape. Cooper, either bored with the proceedings, annoyed at the lack of attention, or sensing that she's no longer needed, rises up on your lap and bats at the red soul hovering just above her. Your sigh comes out as more of a strangled squawk, matched note-for-note by Sans as he does whatever it is he does to shove your soul back where it came from, both of his hands slamming against your chest in a completely unnecessary but instinctive reaction.

Cooper, clearly annoyed by double-barrelled rebuke, leaves your lap and returns to the secure depths of the Christmas tree.

"Ohhh that felt really weird—"

"—**geez, kid, are you hurt—?**"

"—was not expecting—"

"—**do you feel—**"

Your words tumble over each other as you stare at each other in horror. Then, you feel something bubbling up within you, and unable to stop it, a laugh bursts out of you. It's not long before you're laughing too hard to stop, and Sans catches it, and soon the two of you are supporting each other, each keeping the other from falling over.

Finally, the laughter eases, and Sans reaches over to wipe the tears from your face. "**seriously, kiddo, are you okay?**"

You let out a long breath, nodding. "Yeah. I'm not sure exactly _what_ that felt like, but I'm fine."

"**still, probably not a thing you wanna repeat.**" He grabs the cocoa from the table and presses it into your hands. "**do me a favour and have some more of this. just to be safe.**"

Obligingly, you take the mug from him and do as he asks. Though you're fairly sure Cooper didn't actually do you any damage, the cocoa at least serves to banish some of the tremors left behind by the adrenaline surge. There's not even a hint of pain in your feet any more, nor a whisper of chill.

Sans takes the empty mug from you, setting it on the table, and cups your face with one hand, turning it into the light so he can inspect it better.

"No more blue?" You ask.

"**nope. your attempts to give yourself hypothermia are thwarted tonight, pal.**"

The door slams and Papyrus stalks back into the room, one hand holding a box against his hip and the other securing the pile of bones that rests against his shoulder. He drops the box unceremoniously in the centre of the room and dumps the bones he's holding into it. Grumbling quietly under his breath about mangy mutts, he stomps into the kitchen and emerges with a broom, which he promptly applies to the floor with a vigorous excess of force.

As the room once again fills with the rattle of bones, you watch Papyrus work for a while before you wrap the blanket more tightly around yourself. Your voice is soft with uncertainty as you ask, "Did I just ruin Christmas?"

"WHAT?" Papyrus sweeps the last of the bones into the box and rests the broom over his shoulder. "SANS, HOW IS IT THAT I WAS GONE FIVE MINUTES AND OUR HUMAN IS NOW SPOUTING NONSENSE?" Not waiting for an answer, he picks up the box and plants it back against his hip. "OBVIOUSLY ANY CHRISTMAS WITH YOU IN IT IS INCAPABLE OF BEING RUINED, FRISK. THAT'S JUST SCIENCE."

"**there it is.**" Sans ruffles your hair as Papyrus kicks his way through the drifts of wrapping paper. "**you gonna argue with science?**" Smiling, you shake your head, and he gives your forehead an affectionate tap. "**you just got the day started a little early, is all. that's not exactly new, kiddo.**"

"PRECISELY," Papyrus calls from the kitchen. You hear the crash as he dumps his box beneath the sink, and he rejoins you in the living room. "YOU REMEMBER OUR FIRST CHRISTMAS TOGETHER?"

It's meant as a rhetorical question. You're almost certain of that. But heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel the attention of both brothers honing in on you as your silence stretches on. You rub absently at the spot on your chest where your soul vanished, and give them an apologetic shrug. "Honestly? Some things about that first year are crystal clear, and others are… kinda fuzzy." Sans rests a hand against your arm, and you draw silent strength from the support. "Christmas Day is pretty clear, but there's an awful lot of fuzz in front of it."

Leaning against the arm of the couch, Papyrus reaches over to take your face between his hands and turn it toward him, changing the angles slightly as he stares into your eyes. "I HAVE ALWAYS WONDERED IF ALL THAT SKIN AND MUSCLE GETS IN THE WAY OF YOUR THOUGHTS," he says before letting you go and resting a hand on your head. "SOMEDAY YOU MIGHT WISH TO TRY LIVING WITHOUT THAT ENCUMBRANCE. IN THE MEANTIME…" He looks over your head. "SANS, ARE YOU THINKING WHAT I'M THINKING?"

"**great minds think alike, bro,**" Sans says, "**so i must be.**"

"EXCELLENT!" Papyrus exclaims, leaping to his feet. "BUT FIRST, NEITHER OF YOU ARE APPROPRIATELY ATTIRED FOR NOCTURNAL ADVENTURING."

Before you have a chance to question exactly what adventures he has in mind, Papyrus leans forward and scoops you and Sans into his arms. Hugging both of you close to his chest, he runs for the stairs. As your head bounces against Papyrus' sweater, you throw Sans a quizzical glance, but he just laughs. "**nope. doesn't matter how old you get, kid, you're never gonna be too big for our bro to haul around.**"

"OF COURSE NOT," Papyrus scoffs. "THIS IS SIMPLY MORE EFFICIENT." Skidding to a halt, he dumps both of you in front of your bedroom door. "NOW, WHILE YOU ATTEND TO YOUR CLOTHING, I WILL FINISH HIDING THE PRESENTS."

You watch him go, running your hand through your tangled hair. "Hiding the…?" Your words trail off and you glance toward Sans, but he's already gone. With a gentle sigh, you head into your room. Papyrus _had_ been really excited last spring when he'd been introduced to the concept of Easter egg hunts. You suppose if he hides the presents well enough that even _he_ can't find them, you can always ask one of the dogs for help.

As your bedroom door closes, you take a moment to rest against it as you breathe deep and collect yourself. You weren't expected here tonight, but it doesn't stop the welcome that washes over you nonetheless. The little skull nightlight still glows in the outlet next to the bed, and someone, you suspect Papyrus, has added a comforter to the bed that's emblazoned with a Christmas tree framed by falling snow. Only a second glance reveals that the garland on the tree is made of bones, and the rest of the decorations have a similarly skeletal theme. The nightlight catches on the sequinned snowflakes surrounding the tree, and you can't help but smile. To another human, it might seem macabre, but it's comforting, and pretty, and perfect.

It doesn't take long for you to get yourself ready. Though most of your festive sweaters are at the Big House, there's one deep in your drawer here that makes your heart skip a little as you dig it out. The dainty silver snowflakes stitched onto it on it almost echo the ones on your new bedspread, but the pink and blue knitted stripes evoke an even deeper echo of familiarity. In response, a Sans' words rise in your mind to meet it.

_It's just you, Frisk._

You shed your nightgown and slip the sweater over your head, tugging on the chain of your locket once you finish. You often wear it hidden, close to your heart. But tonight, something in you needs it to be seen. Your fingers tangle in the delicate gold links, the familiar shape of the locket settling into your palm as though it had been formed there. The solid weight of it anchors you, calming the racing of your heart, and you take a long breath before opening the door again.

"**hey, pal**." Nothing in you is surprised to see Sans leaning against the railing across from your room, hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie. He's wearing a sweater underneath depicting a smiling whale with a long tusk bedecked in holly and the words "Joyeaux Narwhal" knitted into it. "**got a minute?**"

You nod, and step back to clear a space for him. "Is this about what Papyrus said about my head?"

"**yeah.**" He takes a seat on your bed, and you drop down next to him, making both of you bounce. "**there's a thing I've been working on. i think it might help clear out some of that fuzz you were talking about.**" He raises an arm, scratching at the back of his skull. "**but only if you want me to try. nobody's gonna think any less of you if you'd rather keep the fuzz in place, so don't say yes if it's just 'cause you think it's what i want to hear.**"

It's scary, sometimes, just how well he knows you. It's also a measure of how far you've come that it only took a heartbeat to fight down the automatic response and consider what you actually wanted.

Distantly, across the fields of memory, you catch a glimpse of a sky glittering with falling stars.

"Will it hurt?" You ask softly.

There's a flash of recognition in the depths of his eyes, and a gentle hint of regret to his smile as he shakes his head. "**i don't think so.**" he says. "**as long as you trust me.**"

"Then it won't hurt," you say, and take his hands in yours.

Gratitude flashes across his face, along with something deeper and more complex that you don't have time to untangle, for the light vanishes from his eyes, and you tumble into darkness. But the fall carries no fear with it, for there's something around you that your brain has no words for. It's doing the opposite of glowing, but it's not-glowing with a deep blue, and it surrounds you, and controls your fall. You're not alone. Not lost. Surrounded and supported as a bright spark rushes from beneath to meet you, and at last, the fall spills you out into the faded light of memory. You have no voice, no body, no presence in the place where you find yourself, yet you can still feel the solid presence of bony hands holding yours as the memory begins to unfold.


End file.
